Shattered Skies!
Weeks passed in an uneasy peace.
With only petty thefts and the occasional supervillain tantrum breaking the monotony, Earth's defenders savored a rare reprieve from their relentless cycle of blood, bruises, and chaos. It was the kind of silence that felt too still, like the world itself was holding its breath, bracing for a storm yet to come.
Rex Splode had finally been freed from his full-body cast, a miracle born of medical science and stubborn willpower. He regarded his newfound mobility with the enthusiasm of a man released from prison only to be shackled to a grocery cart.
Rachel wheeled him through the GDA halls with a mischievous grin, expertly navigating tight corners like a stunt driver weaving through traffic. Rex winced with every bump, clutching the armrests as if they might somehow shield him from the jarring jolts.
"This is worse than the cast," he muttered, his voice rough with a blend of pain and irritation.
Meanwhile, inside the rec room, William lounged deep in a cushioned couch beside Kate, the two tucked beneath a threadbare throw blanket. They were absorbed in an old TV series about demon-hunting brothers, a campy blend of melodrama, gore, and supernatural bravado.
On-screen, the brothers chanted an ancient Latin exorcism over a thrashing man whose veins bulged grotesquely like industrial cables beneath his skin.
Suddenly, a plume of darkness erupted from the man's mouth, twisting and coalescing into a horned demon wreathed in shadow. Its eyes were pits of pure void, black tendrils curling like sentient smoke around its clawed fists.
Kate yelped, half-laughing. "God, I forgot how creepy this episode was."
The demon sneered. "You fucking Remingtons are always getting in our way! But not this time, no, this time, I brought friends."
With a thunderous gesture, shadows exploded through shattered windows, forming wraithlike humanoids with glowing red mouths. The brothers stood back-to-back, one gripping a silver-edged dagger inscribed with runes, the other wielding a pistol loaded with holy bullets etched by monks.
Just as the battle was about to begin, the screen jerked violently—
STATIC.
The audio snapped into silence.
Beep… beep… beep.
A red alert light bathed the room. White text flashed across the screen:
EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM – NATIONAL BROADCAST INTERRUPTION
Kate straightened instantly. William's eyes narrowed like a predator who'd just caught the scent of danger.
The static faded into a live news feed. A grim-faced anchor sat beneath studio lights, the weight of fear heavy in their voice.
"This is a global emergency broadcast. Please remain calm and listen carefully…"
Behind them, a satellite image of Earth appeared, overlaid with jagged crimson lines. Fiery objects, dozens of them, streaked toward the planet, glowing red and orange, their trajectories defying physics.
"Approximately seventeen minutes ago, global observatories detected an anomaly in deep space. What was initially believed to be a rogue meteor shower has accelerated and redirected.
These objects are not natural. They are moving with purpose. Estimated impact: under fifteen minutes."
William slowly peeled away from Kate's side and stood.
"Flight-capable heroes and global response teams, mobilize immediately. Interception protocols are active. Impact zones: worldwide."
His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with urgency.
Without hesitation, he sprinted down the corridor, his footsteps echoing like war drums.
Rounding a corner, he nearly collided with Immortal, Atom Eve, Marie, and Conor, each emerging from a side hallway, faces taut with focus.
They didn't need words. Their eyes said everything.
A shared nod.
Then they vanished into the locker rooms.
WHOOSH!
Moments later, the team burst back out, fully suited, eyes blazing with determination. Sirens wailed across the facility. Red strobes cut through the metal corridors. A klaxon screamed overhead.
This was no drill.
The hangar doors hissed open.
One by one, they launched into the sky, streaks of pink, gold, crimson, and shadow against the darkening twilight.
High above the clouds, the first meteor screamed toward Earth like a divine hammer. It was the size of a jetliner, trailing molten vapor and flickering plasma.
Immortal took point.
With a roar that shattered the heavens, he accelerated, muscles rippling like iron cords beneath his suit.
"HAAAAAA!!"
He slammed into the meteor like a cannonball made of fury. The shockwave shattered sound barriers. The rock cracked and groaned as he burrowed deep inside, destabilizing its core with raw, primal force.
CRACK.
RUMBLE.
KRAKOOM!
The meteor fractured into hundreds of fragments.
Waiting below, Atom Eve extended her hands, eyes glowing bright pink. With a shimmer, a net of construct energy, vast, elegant, trembling with exertion, caught every chunk like a god-sized catcher's mitt, guiding the pieces to a safe crash site outside the city limits.
"One down," she whispered, sweat tracing delicate lines down her brow.
But before she could exhale, she spotted it—
Another meteor. Smaller. Faster. Smarter.
It twisted through the sky as if it were alive, banking past Immortal and aiming straight for a glass skyscraper teeming with people.
"William—!"
She didn't need to finish.
Flames ignited below.
William rocketed upward, fire erupting around him like wings of hellfire. His body became a comet, a blazing streak cutting through the sky.
CRACK!
The impact rang like a bell through the city. The meteor slammed into his flaming arms, now morphing into titanic, demonic claws of molten fury.
William gritted his teeth, muscles screaming, heat blistering his skin.
Behind him, the building warped; windows liquefied like water running down glass.
His boots pressed against the outer wall, the force threatening to push him backward, but he held, inch by inch.
From below, Atom Eve watched in stunned awe. "Is he… holding it back?"
William snarled, pulling back with all his strength. The flaming arms mimicked his motion, clutching the meteor like a cosmic baseball.
With a final scream—
WHOOM!
He hurled it.
The meteor spun upward, a blazing fireball smashing into another incoming object. Both shattered into cosmic gravel, scattering into the upper atmosphere.
Eve blinked."…Well. That's someone else's problem now."
But the respite was brief.
More meteors came. Dozens. Hundreds.
Before anyone could react, a shadow streaked past—
Marie.
Her long black hair whipped behind her like a battle banner, slicing through the smoky air.
BOOM!
She punched through the first meteor, scattering it into sparks and shards.
BOOM!
The second met her spinning kick, bursting into a halo of flame.
BOOM!
The third shattered beneath her shoulder, her figure emerging like a goddess of destruction amid the raining rubble.
She paused midair, striking a dramatic pose.
Then came Eve's trump card.
In the distance, a massive construct emerged, a skyscraper-sized baseball bat, glowing bright pink and shimmering with raw power.
Eve gritted her teeth, lined up her swing, and waited—
CRACK!
The bat collided with an incoming meteor, sending it hurtling beyond the atmosphere. But the backlash hit hard. The bat exploded into fractal shards of pink energy, vanishing like mist.
Eve faltered, clutching her temple. She swayed midair.
"D-Dammit…"
The skies had descended into chaos.
Flaming debris rained down, and smoke choked out sunlight. Sirens screamed. Power lines snapped. Highways cracked open. Entire blocks were reduced to fire and ruin.
William hovered beside Eve, breathing hard, glowing with residual heat. Sweat dripped down his temples.
"How many more?" he rasped.
Marie tore past again, her voice a bullet in the wind:
"Too many."
She demolished another rock midair with a scream and a punch that sent shockwaves rippling across rooftops.
Atom Eve, pale and shaking, conjured a spiraling construct net to catch a cluster of flaming debris before it could strike a hospital.
Immortal shattered a house-sized meteor with his body, shards tumbling into the bay like deadly rain.
William, half-burning and half-soaring, unleashed a focused jet of plasma-hot fire, turning one final meteor to slag before diverting it into an empty highway.
Silence followed.
No more red trails.
No more alarms.
Just breathing. Just drifting.
The sky had gone still.
Kate's voice crackled through the comms. "I think that was the last of them. You guys did it."
But then—
A new sound emerged.
A low whump in the distance. Like a body hitting the earth. Not an explosion. Not a crash. Just… impact.
Everyone turned toward it, but it was already too late.
No one had seen it coming.
It had moved too fast.
No trajectory readings. No heat signatures. No warning.
It had dropped like a stone, straight down from the upper atmosphere, hidden behind the chaos of the final wave.
The meteor had landed.
Far from the bustling city center, in a forgotten industrial district where decaying warehouses leaned precariously under rusted power lines, a smoldering crater lay beneath a tattered "No Trespassing" sign fluttering in the wind.
At the core of the crater, the meteor split apart, not fractured like stone, but torn open as if it were flesh.
Thick, black steam hissed out, curling into unnatural shapes that defied logic. The air shimmered and twisted faintly, as though the fabric of reality itself wavered at its edges.
Then it pulsed.
From its sickly, organic interior, a grotesque core emerged, glistening with moisture beneath a translucent membrane. Beneath its surface, veins writhed, and dozens of luminous sacs pulsed softly with an eerie bioluminescent glow, like beating hearts.
And then, they came.
Sequids.
Slithering.
Clicking.
Moving silently.
Hundreds of them, no larger than rats, yet propelled with an uncanny sense of purpose. Their twitching tendrils quivered as they spilled from the meteor's remains, flowing like blood from an open wound.
No chaos.
No sound.
They darted across fractured concrete, disappearing into sewer grates and vents, dissolving into the skeletal remains of the old city.
Each one vanished with meticulous precision, as though this maneuver had been practiced countless times before.
Within moments, the crater lay silent once more.
Void.
No sign of motion remained.
The chaos following the meteor storm was a frenzy of activity. News crews flooded the streets, while helicopters hovered above like relentless insects. Crowds clustered around scorched structures and shattered pavements, murmuring tales of survival and narrowly escaped catastrophe.
Inside the GDA headquarters, monitors displayed continuous news coverage.
"City's Guardians: Earth's Heroes Stop Catastrophe" read one headline, paired with footage of Immortal destroying meteors midair and William's fiery figure diverting a strike just moments before it could hit a skyscraper.
Newscasters repeatedly commended their bravery and sacrifice. Survivor interviews portrayed the heroes as beacons of hope, standing strong in a world often overshadowed by despair.
On social media platforms, hashtags such as #HeroesRise and #CitySaviors gained global traction.
However, the admiration wasn't universal.
On a competing network known for its critical stance on powerful individuals, the narrative took a different tone.
"Collateral Damage or Protection? The Cost of Vigilante Justice," the headline declared, accompanied by stark images of charred neighborhoods and emergency vehicles racing to control fires ignited during the chaos.
The anchor's tone brimmed with skepticism.
"Yes, the heroes stopped the meteors, but at what cost? Was their defense reckless? Were warnings deliberately ignored? And who truly gains from these unending battles waged high above our heads?"
Debate panels erupted with contention, questioning the heroes' intentions. Critics labeled them as uncontrollable vigilantes, while others suggested they were mere instruments of unseen, shadowy forces operating beyond public awareness.
In the quieter shadows of the city, unease simmered.
"They only bring ruin," some whispered.
"Their flames are worse than the meteors," others muttered.
"Do they fight for us, or for themselves?"
The murmurs swelled into a growing chorus in the streets, where small groups gathered around flickering holo-screens displaying the heated debates. Faces illuminated by the shifting light showed expressions of awe mixed with deep skepticism.
In the command room, William stood motionless, his fiery aura subdued, his gaze fixed on the swirling footage of devastation and polarizing opinions. Kate approached cautiously, her steps deliberate, her voice soft yet unwavering.
"They're frightened, Will. This was monumental. People hate feeling powerless, especially when the ones meant to protect them might also leave scars behind."
He nodded slowly, his jaw tight with tension. "We saved lives today. But sometimes, saving lives isn't enough to earn their trust."
Immortal's heavy footsteps reverberated as he approached, his expression somber. "Every time we step out, there's collateral. Always."
War Woman followed closely behind, her chest and abdomen still swathed in bandages that would soon require changing. She nodded in agreement, her demeanor resolute.
"He is correct. There are always casualties, and there are always those who exploit these losses as weapons against us, even for simply existing."